


The Castle of Angels

by Mars_McKie



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Castel Sant'Angelo, Gen, I'm his companion!, Roma | Rome, The friend is the Doctor in this story, present for a friend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 15:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4226328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mars_McKie/pseuds/Mars_McKie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and his companion travel to modern day Rome for a respite day, but when they meet travel advisor Lucia and follow her to the Castel Sant'Angelo things take a turn for the worse when an old enemy awakens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a present for a friend of mine called Sam- he's the Doctor in this story and I'm his companion!

Prologue

Rome 1669

 

Paolo had finished his work for the day and was about to settle down for the night when, crossing the yard between the stables and the house, he saw a light in his father’s workshop. He frowned and went in. Sat at his desk and pouring over a sheet of parchment paper was his father.

“Light another candle or you’ll never see what you’ve drawn,” Paolo said, taking another candle from a drawer and setting it up. His father didn’t even look up from his drawing and Paolo looked over at it. “You’ve started work on it already?”

“The Pope was very insistent,” his father murmured.

“Very insistent that you should take the job,” Paolo responded. “Might it not be better to let another sculptor take the job? You’re not the young man you once were. It seems irresponsible to take on a job that you might not be around to finish-”

“I know, Paolo,” his father said, turning on his son. “But at the very least I can finish the designs; give you or whoever takes up the work in my place a chance to make something… spectacular.”

Paolo smiled as he leafed through the parchment. “You cannot resist interfering. How many statues need replacing?”

“Ten.”

“Ten?”

“The old stucco ones are so aged they are crumbling apart,” his father gestured to a statue standing in the corner of the workshop. It was indeed very worn and looked as though it had seen better days- the metal ribbing was showing in certain places. “I trust I can rely on your help?”

“Of course, if you think I won’t be a hindrance to the work of the great Bernini?” Paolo joked.

“I have every faith in you. I have taught you all I know, you have the best chance of anyone,” Bernini said, looking up from the drawings at his son. Paolo could now clearly see the red in his father’s tired eyes.

“You are too kind father. But please let us go to bed now. It would not do well to rush in and spoil the replacements in our haste,” Paolo reasoned. Bernini’s shoulders sagged in resignation.

“Fine. But we begin again at first light.” Bernini relented and stood up, his old bones creaking in protest after being sat down for so long. Paolo gave him his arm which he gratefully took hold of and steered him towards the door.

“The light of the day is a far more appropriate time for making angels,” Paolo reasoned, looking back at the drawing of a beautiful angelic face.

“Indeed. A brand new troop of angels standing guard in the centre of Rome,” Bernini said, blowing out the candle.

 

Chapter 1

 

It was always a pleasure watching the Doctor dart happily around the TARDIS console, Marcella thought, shouting out nonsense in his booming voice, his long golden hair a whirlwind as he jumped to each lever.

After his most recent issues with the Daleks -which involved a failed attempt at returning Gallifrey to its rightful place in the universe- the Doctor had regenerated into a large man with a long but beaming face and wavy gold hair that fell down over his shoulders. His voice was loud like Brian Blessed’s and he also had a northern accent (the Doctor couldn’t quite believe it- twice in one lifetime he’d had a northern accent!).

The TARDIS itself had regenerated into something of a jumble- there were still the round things on the wall thought the console seemed to have been borrowed from a child’s toy box with assorted whirly knobs and buttons and two buttons which were trapped inside a pinball machine (you had to hit it just right as one button landed the TARDIS and the other one controlled the coffee machine. And this Doctor was more of a cup o’ tea man). There was also a bag of jelly babies left over, but those were Marcella’s.

The Doctor finished playing with the buttons and turned to his companion. “So, where do you want to go?”

Marcella was shocked out of her reverie. “Excuse me?”

“I’m bored, so you pick,” the Doctor explained. Marcella was quite taken back by this; the Doctor more often than not always had someplace in the universe that he knew of that he wanted to show off to his companion. More often than not the only place she got to decide where to go was home. Now that she was put on the spot she couldn’t think of anywhere.

“If you’re having trouble deciding,” the Doctor interjected loudly. “Might I suggest a cluster of planets in the Triangulum Galaxy who fertilise their crops with the milk of the Racnoss. Slightly unorthodox perhaps, but they are essentially able to grow ready-made crumpets…”

Just as she had expected, this was another attempt for the Doctor to pick their destination. This was the point where she was supposed to go “Ooh that sounds interesting, let’s go there!”

This time though Marcella had other ideas. “Or, I was wondering if I could take you somewhere.”

The Doctor did look surprised at this. “Pardon?”

“Well, you take me to so many wonderful places that I was wondering if I could take you somewhere,” Marcella said hesitantly. Though she doubted the Doctor could say no anyway to this reasonable request.

“Oh, sure, of course,” the Doctor stammered. “So long as it isn’t the planet Mars.”

“Damn,” Marcella muttered. Mars being her nickname that had of course been her first port of call. “What have you got against the planet?”

“It’s like going south of the border, you should never drink the water,” the Doctor crossed his arms and nodded wisely. “It tends to make people ill, and… zombie-ish.”

“Fine, not Mars then,” Marcella muttered. Casting her mind around wildly, she settled on a new destination. “OK, I know where we should go…”

A minute (and one mistaken batch of coffee) later, the TARDIS was materialising in a secluded alleyway in the capital city of Italy-

“Rome,” the Doctor stated bluntly. “You’ve brought me to Rome. Why Rome?”

“I panicked after you said we couldn’t go to Mars,” Marcella explained, stepping out of the TARDIS onto the backstreet. Thankfully nobody had noticed their sudden arrival (she often wondered it was a feature somehow inbuilt into the TARDIS, so that when it materialised it didn’t cause a riot). It was a boiling summer’s day with the sun shining brightly. The sound of cars in the distance was also reassuring that they had arrived in modern day- it was very rare for the TARDIS to get both date and location 100% correct, assuming this was Rome.

“I know but, there are so many other places in the universe,” the Doctor moaned.

“I can’t help but feel that you’re getting bored of humans and Earth,” Marcella said. It had been playing on her mind for sometime that perhaps the famous saviour of Earth was becoming fed up of the human race.

“Well, yes,” the Doctor sighed. “Not in a nasty way or anything, but when you’ve been around for nearly a thousand years you do feel like you’ve seen it all.”

“I know, but I panicked. And besides- it’s kinda of a tradition in my family,” Marcella started to explain. “If we don’t know what to get for each other for Christmas or birthdays or whatever then we get them something that we would want.”

The Doctor looked completely baffled by this. “Why? So you can be in envy of them having something that you want? I seems fairly pointless to me.”

“Yeah, it sounds dumb but it works. So I didn’t know where you wanted to go but-”

“I told you where I wanted to go- the Triangulum Galaxy to eat field-grown Racnoss Space Crumpets!”

“Then I promise you that will be where we go on your thousandth birthday,” Marcella promised, feeling exhausted. The Doctor was the master of all arguments though she could feel he was starting to relent. “Please, I’ve always wanted to come to Rome, but I’ve never been able to before. Can you just try to enjoy it?”

“Fine.”

The Doctor walked back into the TARDIS. Marcella panicked that he had gone back in and wasn’t coming back out.

“Wait, please Doctor, don’t be like this-”

But Marcella quickly jumped out of the way of the TARDIS door as the Doctor rode out of it on a red Vespa, wearing a blue helmet and goggles which clashed oddly with his smoking jacket, waistcoat and vertically-striped trousers.

“If we’re doing this then we’re doing this properly!” the Doctor cried, throwing a second blue helmet to Marcella. She grinned from ear to ear as she pulled it over her black shoulder-length hair, climbed on behind the Doctor and set out to explore the city.

The City they were in was indeed Rome and they spent a fun morning riding around looking at the famous landmarks- the Colloseum, the Pantheon, the Trevi Fountain, Vatican City and a number of basilicas. At around midday on Marcella’s insistence they made a stop for gelato (she was wearing her denim trousers and jacket with a long sleeve blue top and she was absolutely boiling. How on earth the Doctor was able to rock around in his three-piece suit was beyond her) and they drifted around the Doria Pamphilj Gallery.

However the Doctor was slightly unimpressed with the collection on display.

“Met him, met him, met him -might have accidentally inspired that painting-,” the Doctor pointed at each painting as he strode around the gallery, Marcella trailing helplessly in his wake. “Met him, met him, met her -fantastic kisser-”

“Show off,” Marcella muttered. She was sure he’d heard her as he paused ever so slightly before continuing around the gallery and repeating his mantra.

“Met him, met him, met him…”

Marcella often wondered what the world must look like through his eyes, or perhaps the eyes of someone who didn’t know him. Indeed the people he was blazing past were regarding him with contempt glares for behaving in such a way in the gallery.

Hanging back, Marcella inspected a bust that the Doctor had so quickly dismissed.

“He’s rather impressive, isn’t his?”

Looking up from the bust, standing next to her was an Italian woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties, carrying an official looking camera with the bag over her shoulder.

“Excuse me?” Marcella wouldn’t use that word to describe the Doctor’s behaviour herself.

“The bust,” the woman indicated the bust that she had been looking at.

“Oh!” Realising what she’d meant, Marcella returned to looking at it. “Yes it is rather.”

“The great Bernini,” the woman sighed. Behind them they heard the Doctor returning down the opposite side of the gallery, still repeating his silly mantra. “Your friend seems to be having fun.”

“Yes,” Marcella murmured, becoming cross with his behaviour.

“Like a child in an ice cream shop,” the woman mused.

Marcella nodded. “I’m sure museums are just how he keeps score.”

The woman looked confused at this but thankfully decided not to elaborate on the point.

“I’m never sure how long you’re supposed to spend looking at one piece,” Marcella said after a moment longer. The woman laughed.

“Well, I suppose it depends on what you take from it. Although I think your friend could spend a bit longer on each one.”

“Yes,” Marcella murmured again. After a few more seconds she said “I think I’ve reached the right length of time.”

“Me too!” said the woman. She raised her camera and took a few shots of the bust, both landscape and portrait shots. Marcella looked at her in a confused way- had there been a sign saying no photographs? Quite a few of the landmarks did have those signs but she couldn’t remember what the rule was here. The woman saw her expression and smiled.

“It’s OK, I’m allowed to take photographs,” she said, holding up a card around her neck. “I’m from the tourist board; I’m building up a repository of Bernini landmarks within the city with the look to making something of a self-guided tour for people who are interested.”

“Oh, I see, that sounds cool,” Marcella nodded.

“I’m Lucia,” the woman held out her hand.

“Marcella, but everybody calls me Mars,” came the reply.

Lucia positively shone with excitement. “The ancient god of war! Reborn as a goddess!”

Mars blushed at being called a goddess. “I don’t know about that! So say I’m a tourist for the day- what other locations are on the Bernini tour list that I should check out?”

“Well, this afternoon I’m headed over to the Castel Sant’Angelo,” Lucia said, barely able to contain her excitement. “Bernini restored some of the angel statues on the bridge there, but even without them it’s a beautiful building and really worth checking out.”

“I’ve seen that place,” Mars thought back to earlier when they had been riding around- she had seen the castle from the road. She had thought -with its curved high stone walls and towering presence over the bridge- that it had looked rather dominating and almost foreboding. Not that that would stop Mars at the best of times, and certainly not after being in worse situations with the Doctor.

Just as she thought this, he reappeared at her side. “Whelp, I’m done, shall we move on?”

“Doctor, this is Lucia,” Mars said, introducing Lucia though he had completely ignored her. Lucia smiled pleasantly and the Doctor beamed.

“Hello!” he declared in his loud voice. People all around the gallery jumped out of their skins at the sound and looked at them with scandalised faces. “Nice to meet you, I’m the Doctor!”

“Hello,” Lucia replied timidly, surprised by his sudden change of tone.

“What are you up to?” the Doctor continued, smiling upon her.

“Umm…” Lucia hesitated and Mars stepped in-

“Lucia is collating a Bernini tour guide to Rome; she’s going to the Castel Sant’Angelo next. Can we go there too? Please?”

 It was fair to say that they hadn’t exactly been invited along, but Lucia voiced no objections when (after little persuading) the Doctor and Mars accompanied her out of the gallery and make for the direction of the castle on the river.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't help but feel that the Weeping Angels have become a bit predictable and not as scary as they were in their original incarnation (the one with the Statue of Liberty actually made me laugh!) so I hoped to restore that reputation a bit. I know it may also be a tad predictable in places, but I just mean to have fun with this story!  
> My friend also said as the Doctor he'd want to go to somewhere other than Earth as he's bored of humans and Earth in Doctor Who episodes (and there have been a lot of those episodes recently), so I've hinted at this but this is the first story that came to mind. I might do a non-Earth story after I've finished my current FanFic to-do list!


	2. Chapter 2

“You’re from Britain? I never would have guessed, your Italian seems so fluent,” Lucia was saying as she guided Mars and the Doctor (she hadn’t enquired into his second name. She hoped she wasn’t being rude in just calling him Doctor, but then Mars seemed to be doing the same thing) to the Castel Sant’Angelo.

“The TARDIS translates,” the Doctor explained. “Don’t ask me how though, I barely understand it myself.”

“And if he doesn’t know then I certainly don’t!” Mars added.

Every so often the Doctor would come out with phrases like this which Mars took in her stride, and Lucia found that after the first time of questioning his ways to Mars (when he had referred to her as his “companion”) she’d stopped questioning him as well.

The three of them arrived at the river; the pavements crowded with tourists and walked the distance to the Castel Sant’Angelo. The old castle must look foreboding, Lucia thought, with its high, curved and blank walls and the angel statues on the bridge that stared unseeingly down at the crowds, but she had lived in Rome all her life and had long since got used to the amount of statues in the city.

As they crossed the road Mars struck up normal conversation again. “Do you live in Rome then?”

“Yes, I’ve got a family here- my husband Antonio and our son Fabio,” Lucia smiled.

“Aww, how old is your son?”

“Two years old. Three in two months time,” Lucia said wistfully.

They reached the bridge flanked by angels on either side and Lucia couldn’t help but notice the increased Police presence. She’d heard about this on the news last night, and a tension hung unspoken in the air.

“What’s with all the rozzers?” Mars asked, glancing at them from side to side.

“People have been going missing in this area recently, they were appealing for information on the news last night, but I don’t think there’s been any luck” Lucia replied.

The Doctor’s ears pricked up at these words. “People have been going missing?”

“Don’t,” Mars sighed.

“What was the nature of the disappearances?” the Doctor seemed to purr, completely in his element.

“Well, according to the news the people didn’t seem to have anything in common other than they were last seen in the area around the castle,” Lucia explained. “I only saw the story briefly…”

“Yeah, and the media often distort the facts to suit themselves,” the Doctor nodded. “I’m going to need more information than that.”

“No, please don’t-” Mars put her hand to her forehead. “Please don’t go bothering the policemen, you’re going to get arrested again and this time UNIT aren’t in the country to bail you out…”

But the Doctor had already gone off to interrogate some poor policemen.

“We’re supposed to be on holiday for the day,” Mars moaned before turning to Lucia. “If you have work to do, don’t let us stand in your way. We could be here for some time, if we aren’t carted off to the police station.”

Lucia nodded. “Yeah, I’d better get on. It was lovely to meet you, Mars.”

“You too,” Mars waved, and with that ran off after the Doctor. The policemen were already staring at him with the obvious view that they were faced with a trouble-maker. Lucia turned her back on what had been a weird hour and got on with her job.

She photographed the angels on the bridge, though they were only designed by Bernini rather than made by him (as he had died with only two angels completed) and these were in fact copies as the originals had been moved to the Sant’Andrea delle Fratte church, but they still had their own fascinating history.

She then continued inside the castle, introducing herself at the front entrance as a tourist board official (though she was only an assistant in her second year it seemed a very official title) and continued inside.

The interior was like a labyrinth; a small town in itself. After getting a snap of the original stucco angel in the courtyard Lucia spent most of the afternoon walking around and getting different snaps of all the varying views, including some more artistic views rather than the traditional tourists shots which she hoped to upload to her personal account later. There were lots of rooms -some roped off to tourists- and even more steps, but her pass as a tourist board official gave her free access everywhere. The one downside was she had to have a security guard with her at all times to allow her access and to make sure she wasn’t damaging any of the property.

Her security guard today, Marco, was thankfully chatty and pleasant. Often she got stuck with a dull stiff who had no care for her line of work, or -in the case of when she’d photographed parts of the Vatican- who wouldn’t let her see certain areas, despite her badge.

“I’ve walked off around two stone since I started this job,” Marco was saying. He looked middle-aged, slightly round in the waist and starting to go bald in places. “My missus is rather pleased about it, though she also complains that’s now putting the pressure on her to lose weight. I told her she’s beautiful as she is, but she had none of it, so I told her to just get a job here and walk it off like me, but she could never leave her job as a cook in a fancy tourist restaurant…”

They were indeed walking a lot. Lucia had been in the castle before but she relished the chance to fully explore it now. As she was peering down a new corridor there was a burst of static on Marco’s walkie-talkie before a voice was heard-

“Security, can we get someone in the golden papal room please,” the voice said. Marco looked anxious.

“That’s only a few rooms back,” he turned, looking back down the corridor. Lucia could see him biting his lip. “Would you mind waiting here a moment miss, while I just go to check?”

“No, of course not,” Lucia said.

Marco nodded, took a few steps and said “Don’t go anywhere,” before jogging in the direction of the room.

This was just what Lucia had wanted- a chance to get some pictures without a security guard breathing down her neck. After Marco’s footsteps had faded away in the distance she set off in the opposite direction down the hallway, taking a left turn at the end. The new corridor had some interesting lighting in it -or rather lack of lighting, with the sun shining in sparse shafts through the window behind her- and she started down the new path with the thought to get an image of the shaft of light through the darkness when she was drawn up short by the sound of movement in the black corridor ahead of her.

As this part of the building was off-limit to tourists it was most likely a worker. “Hello?” Lucia called, but there came no reply. She was unable to see through the darkness so pressed a button on her camera causing the flash to spring up.

Raising the camera slightly she pressed the shutter and the flash briefly illuminated the corridor, revealing at the other end a statue of an angel.

Lucia breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed odd for a statue to be up in this abandoned corridor. Possibly it was up here for repairs? In the short second in which she had seen it she had noticed that the angel’s hands were covering its eyes as if it had been depicted crying.

She had certainly never seen any photos of this statue before, so raising her camera to her eye she took another shot of it, but as the flash once again lit up the statue she noticed that the hands had moved down, showing the face of the angel.

Lucia looked up over the top of her camera in confusion. What had that been about? She pressed the shutter button once again and was even more startled to see that the statue had moved forward a metre, looking at her with an expression of polite interest.

She hit the shutter again and this time held her finger down on the button so that the flashes lit up the corridor but in the second between the flashes the angel was very clearly moving towards her. Lucia stood paralysed with fear as she saw the angel extend its arm and in a moment between flashes she felt the cold stone fingertips touch her skin.

Her whole body gave a strange lurch as if she were suddenly falling through a void, then her feet hit the ground again and she failed to regain her balance and fell onto her backside.

Taking several heavy breaths, Lucia looked around. It was fair to say she wasn’t in the Castel Sant’Angelo anymore, but where she was she did not know.

She was standing in a street filled with smooth, stone-walled houses and leaning to one side to look past another house she could see the sea down the hill. Her mind panicked- what on earth had just happened?

A man was rushing over to her from where he had been sat underneath an umbrella and helped her onto her feet. The fact that he was speaking Italian was some reassurance.

“Are you OK, miss?” he asked.

“I think so,” Lucia said, though she still felt very unsteady on her feet.

“You just appeared out of thin air,” the man continued, guiding her towards the table he had been sat at and lowered Lucia into a chair. She noticed his two friends were also giving her old looks.

“Did I?” Lucia mumbled. She still felt very light-headed. “Where am I?”

“Naples, miss” the man said. Lucia looked up in shock- she was over 200 miles from where she had been before!

“Naples!?” she repeated. “But… I was in Rome…”

Somehow -and she wasn’t sure how it was possible- that weird angel statue must have teleported her away from Rome.

Lucia touched the spot on her arm where it had touched her- her skin felt tingly as if she had pins and needles in that one spot. She was able to perfectly recall the cold touch of the stone.

It was a strange situation she was in but, thinking practically, she had enough money in her purse to get her on a train home. She’d just have to call her husband Antonio and warn him that she would be home late, was all. Lucia could still resolve this situation without hassle and deal with the angel statue later.

One of the man’s friends had been away and brought her back a drink of water which she accepted gratefully, drinking it quickly down.

“Do you need any help, miss?” the man asked, his concern for her clear.

“No, I just need to get home, is all,” Lucia said with some certainty. She considered the man and his two friends who still seemed to be scared of her. “How much for the drink? I can pay for it.”

“Um, 1000 liras if you’re sure,” the one who brought her the drink said.

Lucia stared at him blankly. “Liras?”

“Yes miss, 1000 liras,” he repeated.

Lucia’s heart seemed to freeze. “What year is it?”

“1985 miss” came the reply.

Shock completely took over her mind. That could not be true. If it was true then that meant not only had she been teleported, but she had also been teleported _through time_. That could not be possible.

She got up and stumbled away from the table despite the two men and the woman calling her back. Lucia wandered for some distance and found proof that what they had said was true- old models of cars and scooters on the streets, the changes in the styles and a newspaper giving the date as April 11th 1985\. By all accounts she wouldn’t even be born for another year. She collapsed onto a bench as the enormity of her situation came crashing down on her head.

She was lost. Her money was worthless, she had no official records which would allow her to work and no place to go. Worse still she was completely separated from her family- the thought of her husband and little boy back at home was too painful and she broke down and cried.

It was some time before Lucia moved again. The three who had followed her were gracious enough to take her in, though she had no way of paying them as her money was useless for another fourteen years. She considered going to the police but what could she say? She didn’t know if anybody could even help her travel back through time to where she had been so she hunkered down, knowing she would have to go back to 2015 the long way round. For now she joined the unemployed masses in Naples, just another face in the crowd.

Lucia realised her camera was useless- even if she did take any photos on it she would not be able to connect it to anything to print images off. Digital cameras hadn’t been invented yet. But it still had battery to view the images on the small screen so that night she was curled up on the bed in the spare room looking at the photos she had taken of her family.

She bit her lip as she looked at their smiling faces, zooming in on her handsome Antonio then panning across to the face of her bubbly boy Fabio. What would they think when she made it back to them? She would be in her forties when she eventually made it home- would they even believe it was her?

A single tear rolled down her cheek followed by several more. She flicked through the images that she had taken earlier that day of the bust of Bernini and of the interior of the Castel Sant’Angelo until she arrived at the image of the angel, standing at the end of the corridor with its hands covering its face. The tears became tears of hatred as she regarded the statue.

Lucia clicked the button to take her to the next image when it had started to lower its hands, but instead the small screen was taken up by the face of the angel.

Lucia threw the camera away from her in shock. She knew that definitely had not been the next photo in the sequence, unless she had perhaps hit the zoom by accident. She couldn’t remember zooming hen she’d taken the photo.

She picked up the camera again -which had landed on the blankets at the foot of the bed- and looked back at the image. To her shock it had changed again. The face of the angel, which before had seemed so serene, now looked grotesque- stretched out in a silent scream. Lucia definitely did not remember taking that photo. But as she stared into the angry unseeing eyes on the camera, the eyes of the angel seemed to stare back into her…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter from the view of the photographer Lucia.  
> I don't see my friend as the type to go on really scary adventures like this were he the Doctor- I'm sure he would rather go and eat field-grown Racnoss Space Crumpets! But this is the story that came to my evil mind!


End file.
